After six days Jesus took Peter, James and John with him and led them up a high mountain, where they were all alone. There he was transfigured before them. His clothes became dazzling white, whiter than anyone in the world could bleach them. And there appeared before them Elijah and Moses, who were talking with Jesus.
Mark 9: 2-4, NIV
How often I have been guilty of saying things I almost certainly know I don’t really mean. Of course I think I mean what I say. I imagine I truly feel the way I express myself. I have all the right intentions when I run my big mouth. But then, there I go again, saying things I could never possibly mean to say.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
“I’ll be praying for you!”
“No, it’s fine - I’m O.K.!”
I am a nice guy, I think. Although I could find more than a few people from my past who might disagree, I believe that today I’m a reasonably pleasant and altogether well-meaning sort of fellow. When I offer to help someone, I genuinely mean that I’d like to be helpful. However, I rarely ever mean I’d like to be interrupted from my own selfish gains to actually lend a hand. When I promise to pray for someone, I never intend to completely forget their needs when my own anxieties take precedent in my prayers. Days will pass, and I’ll realize I never actually prayed for that person. When someone asks how I’m doing, or why I’ve been walking funny these past weeks, I don’t intend to lie to them. I simply say, “I’m O.K.,” so as not to worry or disturb them. It fails to occur to me that they’d never ask how I was doing if they weren’t already worried and a little disturbed by my crooked posture and obvious back pain. I am a nice guy, but I am also guilty of saying whatever makes a situation more comfortable for me at any given moment. Indeed, I am actually a wretch in need of salvation.
I suspect some of what you just read may sting a little. You can remember a time when you said what was convenient rather than what was necessary. You might remember a time when you said something altogether inappropriate at an occasion when you simply didn’t know what to say. I once said the most foolish thing in the wake of the death of a close friend - a horrible thing to say that only hurt those within earshot. I uttered something careless and foolish because I couldn’t stand the silence, and in all my grief I felt I had to say something. I certainly didn’t mean what I said.
Most often, my careless words aren’t actually hurtful to anyone. I even suspect that most of us are so used to saying vain platitudes and empty phrases to fill the sonic spaces around us that we almost intuitively interpret each other’s nonsense without a care at all. When I hear someone ask me “how’s it going?,” I don’t actually expect they want to hear my whole life story. They are simply being cordial. That’s the problem. We’ve grown accustomed to not meaning what we say, not saying what we mean, and not even caring what we hear others say. We all know we are all just making noise. Take the disciple Simon Peter, for example, as he mutters something about a camping trip while the Son of Man is beaming brighter than sunlit snow and talking to two of the most important, long-since dead, prophets of history. It takes the voice of God Almighty to silence him from his ramblings.
Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here. Let us put up three shelters—one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” (He did not know what to say, they were so frightened.)
Then a cloud appeared and covered them, and a voice came from the cloud: “This is my Son, whom I love. Listen to him!”
Mark 9: 5-7, NIV
The human mind is so used to hearing nonsense and meaningless words come from other human mouths that we mostly tune each other out. The result of a society that says what is convenient rather than saying what is actually meant is that words begin not to matter. We can see this in our own families, schools, workplaces, but also on the national stages. Candidates for President say what they believe people want to hear. Even a brief dissection of their words leaves the listener wondering what they really mean to say.
“We are America, second to none, and we own the finish line. Don't forget it.”
President Joseph Biden
“We will make America strong again. We will make America proud again. We will make America safe again. And we will make America great again.”
President Donald Trump
What does that guy mean, “we own the finish line?” What is the finish line for America? Would we want to know what that really means? It sounds ominous to me, at worst, but at best it sounds like mere nonsense. And the other guy - when does he think America was objectively strong, proud, safe, and great? Isn’t America still those things? No? What?!? He’s calling us a bunch of weak, ashamed, dangerous losers? Again - at worst he’s insulting his audience, and at best it’s a slogan for cheap, Chinese-made ball caps. Best of luck to both of them, for whatever that’s worth.
I think we can all agree, no matter how offensive that last bit was (I know presidential election years are hard on those who can’t take a joke), much of what we say and much of what we hear lacks any action behind the words. Perhaps the answer is to simply say less. Listen more. Observe more. Read more. Let the input outpace the production line of thought for a while. Sort through what you are thinking. Filter out the noise. Finally, mean what you say. If you can’t do that, as my mother and Jesus would say, then maybe you shouldn’t say anything at all…
Suddenly, when they looked around, they no longer saw anyone with them except Jesus.
As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus gave them orders not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead.
Mark 9: 8-9, NIV
Blessings,
J.M.D.